


i could let you go if i wanted to

by iPhone



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, Romance, light angst tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 21:33:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19411822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iPhone/pseuds/iPhone
Summary: Between the two of them, Beca is the hasty one on the phone. She never lingers or dawdles, but with Chloe, she makes exceptions.or5 times Beca calls Chloe and one time Chloe calls Beca.





	i could let you go if i wanted to

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by my friend Alicia who essentially prompted me to write something else, then I decided to do something completely different.
> 
> Some mention of drinking here. I don’t encourage drinking nor do I discourage it. I think everybody should be able to make their own decisions about whether they want to drink or not (at an appropriate, legal age). In short: don’t shame people for wanting to drink a little now and then and don’t shame people for never wanting to drink.
> 
> Song is glisten (interlude) by Jeremy Zucker.

But I could let you go if I wanted to  
And I don't know these roads but I know you  
Called you here just to watch you cry  
That's life when you compromise  
Cause I could let you go if I wanted to

* * *

Beca gets _chatty_ when she drinks. For Chloe, it’s a little amusing and mostly concerning to see Beca’s walls come crumbling down right before her eyes.

It makes Chloe want to _protect_ her more than ever because a vulnerable Beca is the last thing Chloe wants, though that particular notion is in conflict with Chloe’s desires because she wants to get to know Beca so much more than she did before.

“Woah,” Chloe says. She catches Beca when she stumbles. “Easy.”

It’s a typical end of year party – now also doubling as a celebration of the Bellas’ victory over the Treblemakers at the ICCA Finals.

Beca is _drunk_.

Chloe is so cognizant of that fact, so she focuses on making sure Beca and all the Bellas are safe. 

Besides, she’s not expecting Aubrey to take on that role - Aubrey, who is happily talking Amy’s ear off. 

Aubrey deserves some time off.

“So, you and Jesse?” Chloe asks, leaning over the counter to pour some beer. She swirls it in with some Sprite. A hasty radler. “Glad that worked out.”

Beca peers at her over the rim of the red solo cup she’s nursing, like she’s scrutinizing Chloe. Chloe is not unfamiliar with such a look, having been on the receiving end of it multiple times over the year. “Yes,” Beca finally agrees. “Me and Jesse.”

“That’s great,” Chloe says lightly.

“Aubrey’s rule was dumb.”

“A little dumb,” Chloe agrees.

“I like Jesse.”

Chloe ignores the unpleasant sensation in her stomach. “You do.”

Beca scowls, then. “Stop...repeating everything I’m saying.”

Chloe tilts her head to hide her smile behind her cup. “I’m not, though.”

* * *

**Incoming call:  
** _Beca Mitchell  
_ _Duration: 3:41_

* * *

“Chlo,” Beca says softly. “Chloe, I have something to say.”

“Okay,” Chloe says, pausing in her facial care routine. “Do you need me to come back? Where are you?”

“No,” Beca says quickly. “I’m back at my room. I just.” She heaves a breath.

Chloe glances at her clock, wondering if she should just hang up - wondering if Beca even knows that she called. She has her dumb Russian Lit final the next day.

“I like you,” comes the whispered confession.

Chloe isn’t stupid enough to construe that as anything _but_ romantic because Beca doesn’t mince her words. Doesn’t play with meaning. Still–

“You do?” she blurts.

“Yeah, I mean, it was kind of obvious.” 

_Was it?_ Chloe thinks to herself.

“I...like Jesse too.” 

“Okay,” Chloe says.

“I’m sorry,” Beca continues, speaking as if Chloe hadn’t interrupted her.

Chloe thinks of the future and all that could hold for her. She thinks of life without Beca - thinks of life where Beca could _choose_ her, but it’s so hard to materialize and so hard to conjure up in her mind.

“Would you have chosen me? In any scenario, would you have chosen me?” Chloe asks finally after at least a minute of quiet breathing.

Maybe it’s a little unfair because Beca is barely eighteen, verging on nineteen. She’s young and has her _entire_ life ahead of her – has so much to look forward to. Beca is also intoxicated and this could prove to be the worst kind confession if Chloe isn’t careful.

“I...I don’t know,” Beca says, mumbled like she’s been chastised.

Chloe knows she isn’t safe. She actually thinks she isn’t anybody’s first choice when it comes to this kind of thing. Boys usually only want her because their first choice was emotionally unavailable and she’s there to catch the overflow of hurt ego. Girls rarely choose her first – they’re always intent on late night hook-ups.

Chloe isn’t sure what about her invites that, but Beca is not the first to _not_ choose her.

Somehow, she’s fine with that. Somehow, she chooses to hold on.

“That’s okay,” Chloe says faintly. 

* * *

It kind of happens during one of Jesse and Beca’s break-up. They break-up frequently enough that Chloe’s never really sure of Beca’s relationship status. She just knows that she never wants to be the other party to a cheating scenario, no matter how much it kills her that Beca consistently still _chooses_ Jesse over her.

Jealousy and guilt taste a little like wine, especially as it slips across her tongue by way of Beca’s lips on hers.

“But–” Chloe starts to say.

“We broke up,” Beca says quickly, making equally quick work of Chloe’s jeans. She grunts in frustration when she fumbles in pushing them down over Chloe’s hips. “About two weeks now.” 

They’ve been dancing around this for the past two and a half years. _This_ being some kind of back-and-forth pining. Chloe’s too afraid to come within close distance of it.

Beca’s too stubborn.

They’ll never meet in the middle, unless you count the way Chloe’s hands start at the center of Beca’s body, making her cry out her name into the empty Bellas house.

It is of course, no surprise to Chloe that Beca doesn’t call her once when she leaves for Spring Break the next morning. Chloe busies herself with cleaning the kitchen and the hallways, ignoring the way her heart pounds when she passes her own bedroom.

* * *

**Missed Call:  
** _Beca Mitchell_

* * *

Okay, so she does call. But she doesn’t leave a voicemail and Chloe figures that’s enough to sum up their relationship. 

She never finds out what Beca wanted to say.

Jesse and Beca get together again and again, but with each passing break-up it’s less and less serious.

Chloe keeps her distance.

* * *

**Incoming call:  
** _Beca Mitchell  
_ _Duration: 0:53_

* * *

“I think we should live together,” Beca says immediately when Chloe picks up her phone.

She almost freezes completely, but remembers that she stayed late at the gym and perhaps flying across the room right off the treadmill wouldn’t be the best way to celebrate graduating (finally). 

“What?” she asks for clarity. She hits “pause” on her work-out, touching her headphone to make sure she’s listening carefully. Looking at the time, she sees that it’s only 9:45 in the evening and that the Bellas would have probably started up their party about half an hour ago. She’s late, but she’s been consciously avoiding Beca.

“I think we should live together,” Beca repeats, like that’s enough. There’s some rustling and then crunching, like Beca’s eating cookies or chips. She sounds alert and steady. “Is that okay?”

“In New York,” Chloe asks just to clarify.

“I promise I’m a good roommate.” 

Chloe isn’t sure what drives her to make this decision.

“Okay, yes.” _I have nowhere else to be_.

* * *

**Incoming call:  
** _Beca Mitchell  
_ _Duration: 40:31_

* * *

It’s all harsh breathing for a little while.

That’s the first thing Chloe hears when she picks up the phone.

“Hello?” Chloe asks again, concerned. She tries to wipe the dredges of sleep from her eyes. A quick glance at the clock tells her that it’s just past two a.m. and she could really use more sleep. 

Beside her, Chicago stirs.

Guilt coils in Chloe’s gut.

Returning to the limp phone in her hand, she presses it closer to her ear, her heart beating intensely for some unknown reason. 

(A very known reason, actually.)

Chloe figures (hopes) somebody misdialed.

“Chlo,” Beca’s voice sounds softly.

“Beca,” Chloe replies, sitting up.

“Why’d you kiss him?” Beca rasps down the phone.

A million reasons float through Chloe’s mind. She could tell Beca _everything_ – how long she waited, how long she so desperately desired Beca.

What she thought of at night.

What – 

The way Beca had felt against her, like a phantom memory.

Instead, she’s just tired and the late hour has little to do with it.

Instead, it’s a different kind of time. Time has a funny way of making a person realize their own self-worth and she was just _tired_.

None of that comes out however. Instead, Chloe finds herself pulling on her shorts and t-shirt. “Are you drunk?” she asks. She pulls the hotel room door closed behind her, wincing at the quiet click. “Where are you?”

“Here,” Beca says cryptically. Chloe twists, wondering if Beca is somewhere down the hallway. 

“Beca,” she says, warning in her tone.

Beca mumbles something in discontent. “Amy’s room,” she says, finally. “Her balcony’s really nice.” 

Chloe counts the doors – three of them – and knocks lightly. She pushes on the door a little, noting with horror that the door was barely closed properly, so it gives way easily. She lowers her phone when Beca twists from where she’s standing on the balcony.

“No,” Beca calls quickly, still holding the phone. “You weren’t–” even in the low light, Chloe can see the frown on Beca’s face. It would be cute if Chloe weren’t so concerned. “You weren’t supposed to come. Get back on the phone.” 

“Get back on the phone,” Chloe repeats, lifting her phone slowly.

“I have to tell you something,” Beca says. She makes her way back into the room, leaning on the door for support briefly. Chloe notes that Beca doesn’t necessarily look (or smell) drunk. She just looks kind of tired. Exhausted.

Her hair falls in curls around her face, messy from how she had been done up for her performance. She’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and jeans.

“What did you have to tell me?” Chloe asks, leaning carefully against the dresser. “Why are you in Amy’s room?”

“She wasn’t using it for the night.” Beca sits heavily on the bed, leaning back a little on one arm. Chloe’s eyes track across Beca’s relaxed posture. “Why did you kiss him?”

“It’s complicated. Why do you care?”

Beca groans, echoed and amplified by the phone.

“I slept with him,” Chloe blurts, unable to keep it inside any longer.

Beca’s breath picks up for a moment and Chloe thinks there’s something cruel about pretending that all she has to hear is Beca’s auditory reaction. Instead, she has to _see_ it as well – has to see Beca’s confusing display of hurt and pain and every other emotion that flashes across her face.

“That’s not an answer,” Beca mumbles. 

“I kissed him because I thought I was…” Chloe trails off. “I thought you and I weren’t…”

“You and I weren’t…?”

Something about _this_ Beca seems emboldened. More confident.

“I can’t do this on the phone,” Chloe says, swallowing nervously when Beca stands from the bed and takes two steps closer to her. Her hand lowers of its own accord and she very well could drop her phone, with how numb she feels.

“Why not?”

_I think you know why._

“He and I aren’t anything. We’re not together,” Chloe finally rushes out in a whisper. “I told him as much before we–” 

She actually does drop her phone when Beca’s hands find her hips surely and confidently and she’s pulling Chloe in for a kiss. 

They forget about their phones, until at some point during the night, Chloe pushes Beca back against the bed and they both kind of end up sitting on Beca’s phone, ending the call effectively.

* * *

They don’t sleep together that night - and they actually don’t again for a while.

But it’s enough - it’s enough that Beca finally chooses her and wants her.

Chloe has waited long enough.

* * *

Sometimes Beca calls Chloe for no reason at all now. Just to say that she misses the sound of her voice.

Countless phone calls pile up and just like that, they’re that couple who spends too much time on the phone.

Mostly due to Beca’s job, but still.

* * *

**Missed call:  
** _Beca Mitchell (4)_

 **Voicemail (1):  
** _Beca Mitchell_

* * *

“Chloe, I’m so sorry. You know I hate it when we fight. I didn’t mean what I said. I love you so much and I’m really so sorry about everything. You deserve the world and I’m going to do better. You don’t deserve a distant girlfriend who messes up all the time. Please call me back.”

* * *

Relationships are hard, especially lived through the phone.

Chloe thinks that it’s tiring to play phone tag with her girlfriend, but eventually she grows to become accustomed to having a famous girlfriend. An in-demand girlfriend.

Beca is steadfast, however. Beca is loyal and loving. And she chooses Chloe everytime, without Chloe having to ask.

* * *

**Incoming call:  
** _Beca Mitchell  
_ _Duration: 15:53_

* * *

“Are you trying to have drunk phone sex with me?” Chloe asks, amused. 

_Now_ she’s awake.

“Maybe,” Beca says. “Though I’m not drunk.” A pause. “Drunk on _you_ , maybe.”

“Okay, you’re _at least_ tipsy,” Chloe says laughing. She stretches, leaning back in their bed. “What are you up to, Trouble?”

“Thinking about how much I miss you. And what you taste like.”

 _Oh_.

Chloe raises her eyebrow. “Really?” Unconsciously, her hand drifts to her midsection, conscious of every last sensation, like how her clothes feel against her gradually warm skin. “Do you miss what I taste like?” she asks, battling past the flush that rises in her cheeks.

“I was just thinking about it,” Beca says casually, like she’s talking about the weather. “But I could miss it.” Her breathing increases slightly as she shifts. “Whenever I think about you, I miss you.”

“I’m right here,” Chloe says softly.

“I know.” 

“But,” Chloe says, directing their conversation back to more interesting territory. “What were you saying about missing me?”

“I miss the taste of your skin. How soft you are. The feel of your lips against mine. That thing you do with your tongue when you’re going down on me.”

Chloe fumbles with her shirt. “I’m hanging out. Get on Facetime.”

Beca gasps like the thought never occurred to her. “ _Facetime_ ,” she repeats, in awe. “God, I love technology.”

And she hangs up without a word.

 **Incoming Facetime Video:  
** _Beca Mitchell_

Chloe grins.

* * *

**Incoming call:  
** _Chloe Beale  
_ _Duration: 1:51_

* * *

“Hey!” Chloe exclaims. “Hey, Bec.”

“This has to be bad luck,” Beca says immediately.

“No, I’m pretty sure that’s if you see the bride before the wedding.” Chloe smiles. “Well, send me a picture then.”

“No! I mean – Aubrey would _kill_ me,” Beca says in a harsh whisper. 

“So it’s not _you_ who’s superstitious suddenly.”

Beca scoffs. “No, just want to make sure _your_ best friend doesn’t skin me alive.”

Chloe clicks her tongue. “So vivid, Bec.”

“Oh yeah?” Beca’s voice lowers nearly an entire octave as she whispers. “What’s vivid is what I dreamt last night. You’re very talented, Beale.”

“That’s Beale-Mitchell to you,” Chloe corrects, skimming over the way her body heats at Beca’s words.

“This is our last phone call as an unmarried couple,” Beca says lightly.

“I can hardly believe it,” Chloe says dramatically.

“Same,” Beca replies, though it’s softer and with more motion.

 _God, she loves her_.

“I love you,” Chloe says after a pause. “I love you so much and I can’t wait to see you.” She stifles a giggle. “ _Wifey._ ” 

Beca gasps. “Not _yet._ ” Some rustling. Chloe tries not to think about how beautiful Beca probably looks in her dress. “This dress is suffocating me. The things I do for you.”

Chloe snorts.

Beca sighs. “I love you. So much.”

Chloe cradles her phone to her ear, wanting to remember this forever. “Say it again,” she implores.

Clear as day, no static whatsoever, Beca responds as steady as ever. “I love you, Chloe Beale. And I cannot wait to marry to you.”


End file.
